The One Bright Light in Kirkwall
by HeatSink
Summary: A "behind the scenes" look at Anders and F!Hawke's relationship, beginning with Act 1. Sticks very closely to the game. Rated M for adult themes in much later chapters.
1. Prologue

**Author's Note**: Hello! So this is just a prologue – Setting up who and where Hawke is in this fic. I'm starting the story during Act 1. She has recruited everyone (except Sebastian, since he doesn't become a full companion until Act 2) and this is just kind of letting y'all know what her relationship with each of them is so far. The chapters from this point forward will be more scene based and will take place in between quests in the game. If you have been reading my FemShep/Garrus story ("Someone I can Trust"), you know my style. I try to stick very close to the games and the story is kind of "behind the scenes" style. Rated M for some language and smut in (much) later chapters. Hope you enjoy!

**Disclaimer**: BioWare owns everything! I own nothing!

Sleeping in Gamlen's hovel was more difficult than fighting off a horde of darkspawn. The mattress he had so _generously_ laid out for Hawke was filled with straw, which liked to escape from its fabric prison to mercilessly poke her skin red. When she first arrived in Kirkwall over a year and a half ago, she had tried to use her magic to create a barrier between herself and the straw invaders, but once she fell asleep, she'd lose hold of the spell and would invariably wake up from some beige bastard stabbing her in the face. If that wasn't enough, Carver, Gamlen, and Ser Jack, her mabari, held veritable snoring performances every night. Only by repeating her father's teachings, _"my magic will serve that which is best in me, not that which is most base_,_"_ was Hawke able to keep herself from electrocuting the trio. _Well just Carver and Gamlen. I could never hurt Ser Jack_.

And then there was that mysterious smell… Pretty much everywhere in Kirkwall, except Hightown, seemed to have an odor. But Gamlen's home had a particular stench she had yet to identify nor, thankfully, find anywhere else. "It's called misery, sister," Caver had said. "That smell is pure and utter misery." For once she and her brother had agreed on something.

Needless to say, Hawke had trouble sleeping at night. Wrapped in her magical barrier, she would think for hours – about the templars, Bethany, money, the expedition, her mother – until stress and exhaustion overwhelmed her. Although far from perfect, life had been easier in Lothering. She had been bored most of the time, but at least she had her own room and a comfortable bed. Still, Kirkwall wasn't the hell Carver tried to make it out to be. She genuinely enjoyed the company of some of her new friends, something she had very few of in Ferelden.

They were an **eccentric** merry band of misfits to say the least. But in a short time, Hawke had become fond of each of her new companions. She was grateful that Aveline continued to put up with her antics. The soon-to-be guard captain was a bit overprotective at times, but Hawke would be lying if she said she wasn't keeping an eye out for the ginger warrior as well. Aveline put up a brave face, but she had granted her husband, Wesley, the quick death he wished for herself. If she had been in Aveline's shoes, Hawke wasn't sure if she could have done the same kindness.

Varric provided the comedic relief their group desperately needed. She had been skeptical of the dwarf during their first meeting in Hightown. She just couldn't get over the fact that he didn't have a beard. _Chest hair aplenty, but no beard_! Her life as an apostate had taught her to be wary of strangers, but she knew that she could be borderline paranoid. Varric had proved his trustworthiness more than once since then. Their drinking sessions at the Hanged Man was one of the things that kept her going during this difficult time.

Warming up to Merrill had been less difficult than she original thought. The elf, although adorable, was a blood mage – everything Hawke had been taught to abhor. The way Merrill had so easily summoned a demon on Sundermount during their first meeting… It had more than terrified Hawke – it had angered her. Blood mages were part of the reason she couldn't live openly and be publicly proud of what she was. And the former-First frolicked around like she was doing nothing wrong! Hawke had often wondered if Merrill wasn't a demon in disguise… she was just **so** cute. The anger she had first felt dissipated after visiting the Dalish in the alienage a couple of time. Somehow, her mind began to separate Merrill from the word "blood mage" and all the feelings it rustled within her. They were both just young mages trying to find their way.

Isabela, on the other hand, Hawke liked immediately. She was brash and upfront with her thoughts not only about herself but those around her. She apologized for nothing, even if it repulsed others (namely Aveline). It was a quality Hawke strived for in herself. While Isabela's taste in whiskey was questionable – the woman drank **anything** you put in front of her – she knew how to have a good time. She was also the most skilled duelist Hawke had ever met. Isabela might not want to admit it out loud, but Hawke knew the pirate had her back.

Hawke didn't know what to think of Fenris really. The elf was unpredictable, easily enraged, but, for some reason, continued to fight by her side despite the fact she was a mage. She put up with his brooding in an effort to prove that not all mages are like his former master. Still, it pained Hawke to look at him – the scars of magical abuse ever present on his skin. But Fenris was also a constant reminder of the temptations of dark magic and why she had to resist.

And of course there was Anders. Hawke's breath hitched slightly at the thought of her fellow apostate. Even now, months later, she blushed at how she acted around him during their first meeting. Hawke was flirtatious but she pulled out lines on the former Warden that were worthy of Isabela. Carver had mocked her for a week, using the "sexy, tortured look" line whenever he could. Hawke was not normally so brazen – her words had surprised her as much as everyone else. But Anders was different from any man she'd ever met. _Well, it's not every day you meet someone bound to a spirit of Justice_, Hawke thought. She had become more subdued in her flirting with him as time went on, partly out of embarrassment and partly because he flip-flopped on how receptive he was to her advances. But the apostate always seemed to invade her thoughts during her nightly musings and when she wasn't in the Hanged Man or on some adventure, she was in the clinic helping Anders with his patients.

But it wasn't always butterflies and shallow breaths when Hawke thought about Anders. She worried about the spirit he had allowed inside him. Justice was well and good, but Vengeance was another story. Fenris had pulled her aside more than once to press upon her his dislike for Anders, calling him an "abomination" and some other more colorful names. But Hawke didn't feel the same anxiety around Anders like she did Merrill. He was trying to help mages. He was a symbol to not only her people in Kirkwall, but to Hawke, herself. In Lothering, she and her family had kept a low profile to remain safe. It was a small village – no place to start a revolution. But Kirkwall presented opportunities for change. It was a subject she and Anders had spent entire nights excitedly discussing.

But for now, talk was all they could do. She was still short on money for the expedition. Taking care of her family would always be Hawke's first priority. Hawke's eyelids began to feel heavy just thinking about the deep roads. _Only a few more sovereigns…_ she thought before drifting off to the Fade.

**Author's Note**: Hope you enjoyed the prologue. As I said before, the rest of the chapters will be longer and less thought-based. This is a Lady-Hawke and Anders romance fic, so that is the centerpiece of the whole story. That being said, other companions will obviously have their time in the spotlight because I just can't resist :) Please review! It really motivates me to update quickly! And if you like my writing style and/or love FemShep/Garrus, please check out my other story "Someone I Can Trust." Thanks!


	2. Fellow Apostates

**Author's Note**: Thanks for sticking with the story to read past the prologue! Hope y'all like chapter one! 

Special thanks to DownTheWabbitHole for reviewing! I really appreciate it!

**Disclaimer**: BioWare owns everything! I own nothing!

Anders blinked as a drop of salty sweat rolled into the crease of his eye. Normally the slight stinging would have been a nuisance, but after a long day of healing the sensation kept him alert. He was unused to the Kirkwall heat. _And the smell that comes with it_, the blonde mage thought, crinkling his nose at the ever present but not always so faint odor of manure that clung to the air in Darktown. Situated close to the sewers, the Undercity was more humid than Lowtown. The added moisture weighed heavily against his feathered robes. He was still dressed for the Ferelden cold, an old habit he found difficult to break. One of many.

"You know, if you're hot, you could – I don't know take off the robes," Hawke teased. She was sitting on his desk, her legs swinging back and forth like a child's. The grin she sported was playful, daring. _And dangerous_.

"Because your attire is much more sensible," he retorted. She was wearing a dark mercenary coat with an impressive metal shoulder strap and a bright red sash around her waist. The outfit apparently had belonged to her father, but she had tailored it to fit herself. _Tailored very well_, Anders thought, appreciating how nicely the grey material hugged her curves. Instant disapproval simmered deep from within. Sometimes Anders wished that he and Justice could have conversations like Isabela acted out for her own amusement. It would be easier than just having "feelings" that seemed partly his own, but were mostly from another source. Just thinking about it made his temples pulse slightly.

Hawke shrugged, her legs still swinging, and said, "I'm not the one sweating like a nug on coronation day."

"Harsh!" He laughed. The girl had been spending a little too much time with Varric - the wild dwarven metaphors were a dead give away. Turning away from the now finished elfroot potion, Anders walked over to the rusty basin he kept filled with water. Dipping his pale hands into the lukewarm water, he splashed the liquid against his face, relishing the instant gratification of the cool temperature. Droplets clung to the ends of his rustled hair. His still wet hands carelessly pushed a few strands out of his face. He could feel her green eyes watching him, making no attempt to hide her staring. Anders hoped he didn't look as exhausted as he felt.

"Anders."

Her voice was softer. His back stiffened instinctively at the change in tone. She was going to ask him a favor. Anders had always found it difficult to refuse the requests of women. Especially Hawke.

"Yes?" he asked, wiping a dirty rag against his eyes.

Hawke pushed her rouge lips together – a nervous habit – before sliding off his desk. "I received a mysterious letter-"

"Again?" Anders chuckled.

She smiled, relaxing. "Again. This one apparently from someone I've met before, but didn't wish to divulge their name in the letter." Hawke reached into one of the pockets on her belt, pulling out a folded piece of parchment. She handed him the letter. Anders could feel the warmth of her soft hands even against the rough tops of his fingernails.

"Scion of the Hawke family, huh?" he teased. Hawke rolled her eyes and nudged his shoulder to continue reading, a slight blush gracing her cheeks.

To anyone other than a fellow apostate, Hawke's reaction to the letter and her bringing it to Anders might seem strange. But he understood immediately. "You're worried it could be a trap." he stated. "Set by templars?"

"Or mercenaries," Hawke said. "Or slavers. Or the Carta," she added.

"You are the most popular girl in Kirkwall." Anders laughed.

Hawke raised her eyebrows. "I think Isabela and a few choice **ladies** at the Blooming Rose might try to fight me for that title."

"I meant popular in the 'I'm going to kill you' sense. Not 'whip cream and hand cuffs' popular," Anders said, sighing.

His chest tightened as Hawke covered her mouth giggling. With all the fighting and the mage cause, it was easy to forget that Hawke was still a young woman. But there were moments, like this one, where her inner-self - one not burdened by the responsibility of family and magic – came out. Secretly, Anders filed these moments away to remember during dark times.

Her eyes peered up at him, earnest. Anders swallowed deeply. "It could be a trap, but if it's not…"

"The lives of innocents are on my hands," she finished, paraphrasing the letter.

Anders nodded and handed back the piece of parchment. This time Hawke placed her fingers higher, against his scabbed knuckles, leaving a tingling sensation as she slowly dragged the pads of her fingers down the back of his hand. He inhaled at the contact.

"Well that's that." Hawke sighed. "Looks like I'm taking a trip to the Wounded Coast."

"I can come with you," Anders said quickly. "If you'd like."

That mischievous grin returned to her face. "Glad you offered. Now I don't have to drag you along."

Anders shook his head. "You really need to stop hanging out with Isabela."

"Actually I learned my man-dragging techniques from Aveline."

…

Hawke was practically skipping through the dark Lowtown streets. Varric shook his head, chuckling behind her and exchanged a knowing look with Anders. It had been a good day for the magical Ferelden refugees. A group of Starkhaven mages had been spared from the templars and without **much** bloodshed. The dwarf had worked his own magic (with words) on the fanatical templar, Ser Kerras, and their informant, Ser Thrask, would live another day. The more cynical part of Varric knew this was not over, but for now he enjoyed seeing Hawke frolicking about the streets of Lowtown.

They were headed to the Hanged Man of course. Carver had stormed to Gamlen's upon their return to the city, angry over his sister's defiance against the templars. Considering his own rocky relationship with his brother, Varric knew the boy was just worried about her. Hawke knew this too – it was the only reason Carver didn't currently have a stone fist up his ass.

Hawke had convinced Anders to join her and Varric for at least one drink to celebrate the freedom of the Starkhaven mages. "Surely Justice won't be angry with just **one**," she had pleaded, pulling out every trick in the bag – long lashes fluttering over enlarged eyes, pouty lips, her hand ever so briefly tugging on coat. Anders had relented, not surprisingly. He'd been a puddle of goo since she had agreed to help the apostates. Hawke replayed his shocked yet beaming expression in her head and it was part of the reason there was such a bounce in her step.

"I do hope Isabela is at her usual post tonight," she said in a singsong voice.

"I have no doubt Rivaini will be downing her usual mug of rat piss whiskey, Hawke," Varric reassured her. "Don't you worry."

"Last week she busy with a couple of farm boys," Hawke informed Anders. "Their first time in the city."

Anders sighed. "I know. They were at my clinic the next day."

Hawke stopped and turned towards him, wide eyed. She considered asking whether or not the boys visited him because they woke up in that ditch Isabela was always recommending or for a salve…

"You don't want to know," Anders told her, answering her question before she could ask.

Varric groaned and pushed on ahead, anxious to return to his palatial suite. "I really wish you had a doctor patient confidentiality agreement, Blondie," the dwarf muttered.

Hawke continued to grin and laugh. Her cheeks were sore, the muscles unacquainted to being used in this way as of late. She began to quicken her pace to catch up with Varric when she heard Anders clear his throat. "Hawke," he whispered.

"Yes?"

"Can you wait a moment?" He nervously scratched his left bicep.

Hawke frowned, disappointment rising in her chest. "You aren't backing out are you?"

A flash of warmth washed over Anders that she desired his company so. "I'm still coming." He smiled reassuringly. Her demeanor relaxed and she took a step closer to him. "I just wanted to say something to you before you're bombarded by everyone."

Hawke tilted her head in a fashion that reminded Anders of Ser Pounce-A-lot. He filed the memory away with the others. "Okay…" Her voice was a mixture of excitement and apprehension. "We'll meet you there, Varric," she yelled ahead.

It was moments like these that Anders realized how much he had changed since joining with Justice. Before he had no difficulty talking with men or women. In fact, flirting came to him so naturally that it often caused a great deal of trouble. Not that his former self didn't come out at times. He had shamelessly flirted with Hawke when they had first met, but it was a part of him he had tried to repress. She just seemed to bring it out of him – flirting, feelings, attachment. He had lived his entire life floating from friend to friend, bed to bed, lover to lover, without ever truly giving himself to anyone. Even Karl… He had been guarded. Things had been over between them before he had received any news from Kirkwall. But Hawke was different. She had lived her life free of the Circle, but understood its faults. Time and time again, she risked her own freedom for her fellow mages. _And she does it without the aid of a spirit._ Anders had needed Justice to fight for his people, but Hawke did it all on her own.

Hawke tried to keep her breathing steady as she waited for Anders to speak. _I'm pretty sure I dreamt about this last night_, she thought. _One rustically handsome mage with a dark past – check. Wanting to confess something to me – check. In a dark alley – check._ She blushed as she thought of what had occurred next in the dream. _Focus, Hawke…_

"Thank you," he finally said. "What you did today… It was incredible."

"It was a group effort," Hawke said, her eyes reaching out to him.

Anders shook his head. "You made the decisions Hawke. You saved those mages today and you did it without killing that templar."

Hawke had been a little surprised at how easily Anders had written Thrask off as a necessary sacrifice to save the mages. "It may seem naïve but I still believe we can find some sort of compromise. Ser Thrask's daughter was a mage, remember?" she asked, lightly placing a hand on his shoulder. "Not all templars are monsters, Anders. Like the one who helped my father."

He stared at her hand, relishing the contact. "He seemed like a decent man," he conceded. Hawke inhaled and exhaled deeply and smiled.

"For a templar," he added.

Hawke let her hand drop from his shoulder and Anders regretted what he said if only because it caused the loss of her touch. "I'm sorry," he said. "It's difficult for me."

She nodded. "You don't have to explain yourself, Anders. I understand. Bethany –" her breath hitched slightly. "Bethany and I used to keep tabs on every templar in Lothering. I have no love for them. But in the same way that I do not want every mage to be judged by one blood mage's actions, I try to be fair to individual templars as well."

Maker, he could kiss her. Anders' entire body burned with a mixture of admiration, lust, and disapproval. When she spoke like this, he couldn't help but wonder if he had known her before would he have joined with Justice at all. Would it have been necessary? He wetted his lips and gripped his hands into fists in an attempt to control his inner debate. "It is something to strive for."

Her lips parted to reveal a full smile and she gestured for him to follow. "Come on, my revolutionary. I believe I owe you a pint."

Author's Note: Hope you enjoyed! Going to wrap up Act 1 pretty quickly – probably just another couple of chapters then get to the Deep Roads so that we can get to the three years in between the Acts and of course the steamy bits in Act 2 :) Please review!


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